The Voice of the City: Further Stories of the Four Million eBook

“Well,” said the Fool-Killer, briskly,
“I must be going. You had better go home
and sleep it off. Good-night.”

At this I was moved by a sudden fear for Kerner to
a softer and more pleading mood. I leaned against
the gray man’s sleeve and besought him:

“Good Mr. Fool-Killer, please don’t kill
little Kerner. Why can’t you go back South
and kill Congressmen and clay-eaters and let us alone?
Why don’t you go up on Fifth Avenue and kill
millionaires that keep their money locked up and won’t
let young fools marry because one of ’em lives
on the wrong street? Come and have a drink, Jesse.
Will you never get on to your job?”

“Do you know this girl that your friend has
made himself a fool about?” asked the Fool-Killer.

“I have the honor,” said I, “and
that’s why I called Kerner a fool. He is
a fool because he has waited so long before marrying
her. He is a fool because he has been waiting
in the hopes of getting the consent of some absurd
two-million-dollar-fool parent or something of the
sort.”

“Maybe,” said the Fool-Killer—­“maybe
I—­I might have looked at it differently.
Would you mind going back to the restaurant and bringing
your friend Kerner here?”

“Oh, what’s the use, Jesse,” I yawned.
“He can’t see you. He didn’t
know you were talking to him at the table, You are
a fictitious character, you know.”

“Maybe he can this time. Will you go fetch
him?”

“All right,” said I, “but I’ve
a suspicion that you’re not strictly sober,
Jesse. You seem to be wavering and losing your
outlines. Don’t vanish before I get back.”

I went back to Kerner and said:

“There’s a man with an invisible homicidal
mania waiting to see you outside. I believe he
wants to murder you. Come along. You won’t
see him, so there’s nothing to be frightened
about.”

Kerner looked anxious.

“Why,” said he, “I had no idea one
absinthe would do that. You’d better stick
to Wuerzburger. I’ll walk home with you.”

I led him to Jesse Holmes’s.

“Rudolf,” said the Fool-Killer, “I’ll
give in. Bring her up to the house. Give
me your hand, boy.”

“Good for you, dad,” said Kerner, shaking
hands with the old man. “You’ll never
regret it after you know her.”

“So, you did see him when he was talking to
you at the table?” I asked Kerner.

“We hadn’t spoken to each other in a year,”
said Kerner. “It’s all right now.”

I walked away.

“Where are you going?” called Kerner.

“I am going to look for Jesse Holmes,”
I answered, with dignity and reserve.